Русский и the American
by Cherokee Bonnefoy-Jones
Summary: Jessie James Jones, son of America and personification of Oklahoma Territory, and Nikita Braginski, son of Russia and personification of Moscow, stay with Stockholm's family while letting everyone at home cool off from shocking news - they're in love.
1. Prologue: Flight Risk

**Atemna: Sounds a little like a Romeo/Juliet cliche story. Oh well. Inspired by my letters as the Oklahoman Territories. Anyway, languages that aren't English were from using Google Translate.**

* * *

America was bored and noticed that two of his children - 'England' and 'France', as he had dubbed them once he claimed proper custody of them after the Louisiana Purchase - were accepting and writing letters. Most of the first letters were Japan and Illinois. So that was what Valentines Day had been about . . . . . Then his youngest son Alaska go involved. France, Hawaii, and Texas had written once. He wasn't going to dare do anything after re-reading the events of that particular meeting. Kansas had even threatened a second Civil War. He wasn't even going to touch on the Southern California issue.

True to their nicknames, they fought like his former caretakers. From 'who-knows-what' to 'how-the-feck-are-we-twins?' Then he saw it. The biggest nightmare ever imaginable. His son was in love with the Commie Russia's Commie son and capitol, Moscow. It wasn't the whole them being guys. No, his boss allowed gay marriage now. He was sure his and Japan's recent romantic relationship had something to do with it. No. It was the fact that Moscow was RUSSIA'S son. Now Jessie was MIA, along with the Commie Brat.

**~Somewhere Over Europe~**

_**To: подсолнечник**_

_**Он по-прежнему болит о холодной войне, да? Ему нужно научиться прощать и забывать.**_

_**Твой отец и мой отец, может быть?**_

_**Я сел в поезд. Я жду в аэропорту.**_

_**Скоро увидимся.**_

_**Любовь,**_

_**Никита Брагинский**_

_**To: Comunista**_

_**Si.**_

_**Estoy casi ahí. Dale otra media hora.**_

_'Maybe I should text Cherokee?' _Jessie thought, looking at his phone. Turning to the window, he saw his reflection. He was no longer blond, but brunette. Sadly, he still had his 'Iggy-brows' and muddy green eyes. Usually, he wore contacts, but now he'd put his old pair of glasses on. Stupid Commie liked them for some stupid reason.

**#Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We will be landing in Stockholm, Sweden shortly. If you could all stay seated and buckle up, please? Thank you.#**

Jessie sighed and fastened the buckle. Maybe everyone at home would stop having a problem with him and Moscow if they stayed with Stockholm and her family for a month or so. Nikita had said he'd talked to her about it, and Sweden and Finland didn't seem to have a problem with it. The landing was really bumpy. Turbulence SUCKED. Grabbing his carry-on, the (physically) 17-year-old American made his way off the plane and to where a familiar Russian would be waiting. This was the problem with big families: they all wanted to control everything. Especially his dad and the bosses. Why did they have to have bosses? Why couldn't they have just started running things themselves like Rome had done himself for awhile? Why did Rome give up power to humans?

Thinking and walking, Jess decided, was probably a bad thing. Especially when you almost knock over your taller Russian boyfriend. Whilst reading his text:

_**Это было полчаса. Где ты?**_

_**Любовь,**_

_**Никита Брагинский**_

"Turn around, dumbass."

"Jessie! I was so worried! I thought something happened to your plane!" the Russian greeted with a soft smile as he turned to hug his rather short boyfriend. Covering one side of his face was platinum blond hair, hiding the burns he, like D.C., had received when the capitol had been set aflame. How come Nikita had never told him that, and he had to find out from their half-brother? "Let's go, da?"

"Bastardo, no pasó nada. Remember, SWEDISH," he reminded the 19-year-old, half responding in Spanish. He needed to drop that habit.

"Just det."

Nikita took the carry-on and had already retrieved the American-posing-as-a-Brit's duffle bag. The pair walked around for a while before an exhausted, tall, blond haired, blue eyed female teen got out of her car. "Ni får mig i trubble med Cherokee och dina pappor, jag hoppas du vet," she huffed, forgetting all about the ten year old personification in the back seat. It was a good thing the boy was occupied with his handheld game and that personifications learned foreign languages easy. "Hon sa till mig att leta efter er killar ifal du fick förlorat på vägen till mitt hus eftersom en av er verkar en österrikisk känsla av riktning."

The two just got in the car, Jessie sitting in the back and ignoring the girl's comment while Nikita took the passenger seat. "What'cha playin', Peter?" he asked, looking at the handheld's screen. The boy just gave it to him. "Can't beat Misty?" Peter just nodded his head. He hated losing in the games he owned. And it was only Pokemon: Fire Red.

Once they reached Stockholm's house, Finland greeted the four with a smile. Sealand was back to his game and sat at the dinner table to finish playing while his adopted sister went to show Oklahoma Territory and Moscow to their borrowed room. Sweden was out at the moment, but was on his way home from the store. Jessie didn't care as he removed his glasses and collapsed on the king-sized bed. It had been a long day, having gotten on the plane there that morning, almost eight Central Standard Time in America. The night before had been hell, what with his governor, dad, and Russia and Moscow having a VERY long talk via Skype. His Russian companion just sat and ruffled his boyfriend's now-brown hair. "Я люблю тебя, подсолнечника."

* * *

**Yeah. Might wanna read my letters to get up-to-speed.**


	2. Nex Morning

**Okay, to explain some of this first part: Headcannon. It sucks sometimes. I believe that Germania and Britannia are England's parents, and I only say this because - 1) English is a Teutonic(German) language, and 2) Have you NOT looked at Iggy's and Prussia's hair? Distinctly similar to me. Then there's the fact that he kinda looked like Germania in that daydream of him with long hair, no? Also, when his hair's slicked back, he almost looks like Denmark. Thus cousins, since I also believe Scandinavia and Germania are brother and sister.**

**Another thing (dang, this A/N is long) Aino, is Finland's daughter and capitol. And sorry for how Åsa talks. She's like her dad when speaking English. FYI, Åsa and Aino aren't actual sisters.**

* * *

It was a slow morning, Jessie found when he woke the next day. It didn't help that he'd woken up an hour before Nikita, who had an arm firmly around his waist. Hey, you try getting a giant sleeping Russian to let you go when you wish you were still asleep. Finally getting loose, the American padded downstairs, ignoring the cold wood floor against his bare feet. In the kitchen were several useful things: one, a clock; two, Finland making breakfast; three, his going-to-be-guide Stockholm. There was no way he was going to walk around town without her showing him where everything was. Especially so since it seemed he had gotten a distinctively Austrian sense of direction from his great-grandfather, Germania.

"Good morning. You must be Åsa's friend Jessie, right?" the man asked him.

"Umm . . . Yeah. We met at the meeting in '99. It's nice to see you again," he replied, trying to fake a British accent. It actually sounded quiet good.

"You too. Isn't it a bit early to be up, though? Nikita might worry where you've gone later."

The teen just shrugged his shoulders, not sure what to say. It was 5:30 at the moment - way too early to be moving around when the sun wasn't even up. Åsa sat next to him and placed a cup of coffee on the table. "M'm' 'm g'nn' g't 'in' 'p." Jessie just stared at the offered mug, too half-asleep to move. Maybe this is what his dad felt like in winter? How the hell would he know? He's had to put up with insane amounts of snow for three or so years out of the last five. Luckily, a plate of pancakes and bacon were set on the table.

"Nikita told me you usually eat this for breakfast."

"Yeah. My Uncle Matt - umm, Canada - made this for us when we - me and my sister - became our individual territories. So . . . . . thanks, I guess."

While he ate, Åsa came back in with a smaller, brown eyed blond supported on her shoulder. "Mama, tell her to let me sleep. Papa doesn't wake you up like this." Tino giggled a bit before motioning both girl's to sit and eat. "Sorry, Aino, but she had the idea of you two showing Jessie and Nikita around town today. Is your papa ready yet? He has to leave soon."

Watching and listening, the Oklahoman noticed that they were NOTHING like his family. They joked and no one yelled, they were also fairly calm in the mornings, and no one had tried to kill someone else. Why couldn't everyone else at home be like that? Oh. Wait. That would be too easy. When he was nearly done with his breakfast, Nikita walked in and handed him his cell. One new message. Great. Any takers on it being America telling him to get his ass back home? Oddly enough, though, he was wrong. It was from his older sister Illinois:

**hey whats goin' on with that Moscow cutie, Jess? ... or should I call ya Sunflower? ;) and I heard ya dyed your hair.**

*Sigh* Just another thing to get used to. "Who's it from?" Nikita asked, looking over the smaller teen's shoulder.

"Illinois. She's lost it. Asking what's going on with - No one can drop it, huh?"

The Russian didn't say a word as he fixed his own breakfast. Then came the off-hand remark from out of no where. "It got cold after you got up. We could have suggled for a little, da?" Now Jessie's face was bright red. But Stockholm decided to take care of the tense atmoshpere.

"Jag fick inte gosa min Aino heller." Hellsinki's face was just as bright as Oklahoma Territory's, now wide awake.

"Mama, tell her to not say things like Papa does. She even says them around Peter."

Stockholm, it was discovered, was a little less reserved than her father, not seeming to care who knew about her and her step-sister's relationship. Hellsinki, however, was just as shy as her 'mama' and hoped for some amount of dignity in any situation. This was nearly as bad as Sweden calling Finland his wife right in front of Estonia at Poland's house. There was no point in scolding the girl, so the issue was left alone.

As a guest, Jess offered to do up some of the dishes. Why was it so relaxed here? And he didn't mind doing dishes for once in his life. At home, he and Cherokee would always fight over whose turn it was and start a war, wasting all the dish soap. Dammit, he wasn't gonna cry. There was no reason to miss something like that. It was just stupid nostalgia, that's all. Who would miss fighting with their twin sister on a regular basis? Then Moscow placed a hand on his shoulder. The plate he held almost cracked under pressure.

"Вы сделали, подсолнечника." Good. Because tears were threatening to fall, betraying how strong he really was. America taught his kids that you stopped crying after gaining independence, or, in their case, statehood. He wasn't about to be weak. The last time he'd cried was when knews of his Aunt Confederacy's death had reached his house. He'd managed to hold the tears at Appomatox.

"F'nn, 'm'rg'ncy w'rld m'et'ng. 'm'r'c' w'nts 's 'll 'n Skyp' n'w. Y'u t'o g'rls."

~Sweden's Office~

/What's this all about, America? It's nowhere near some of us to be getting up. Why are you even up this early?/ England asked his former charge.

/Oui, Amerique. I was 'aving a good dream where Angleterre finally - /

/SHUT UP, Frog. No one wants to hear it./

/Umm . . . We do,/ Belgium and Hungary said together, whilst Japan refrained from speaking, having both sensed the mood and remembered that he was actually living out his personal yaoi fantasy.

/Well . . . . Russia knows, since Moscow's involved. And seeing as Moscow isn't here . . ./

/Very observant, git. But why is Cherokee there? She's not a capitol,/ London pointed out.

/Jessie an' Moscow ran away together. Looks like you an' Paris were right. It's kinda my fault, since I backed Jess into a corner wherehe had to say he loved - /

/That's enough from you. If you guys see Jessie, tell 'im he can come home. But I'm not completely sorry for what I said./

/You should learn to be more forgiving, da? I haven't bothered you about how much I get to see Nickoli. Why should it bother you that Nikita and Jessie like each other?/

* * *

**Good question, Ivan.**


	3. Nekotalia and the Conference

**Got bored and decided to do a Nekotalia sorta thing.**

**Cats are:**

**Basil - Jessie's cat**

**Barsik - Nikita's cat**

**Aina - Aino's cat**

**Tauno - Tino's cat**

**Carita - Åsa's cat**

**Birger - Berwald's cat**

* * *

They had arrived to this house with their owners and met new people, cats, and a playful puppy. The resident cats didn't seem to mind the dog too much and willingly played with it. The night they arrived, their host cats asked what was wrong with one of their owners, the one with the thick eyebrows.

"His dad yelled at him yesterday. It's because he chose Barsik's owner for his mate. I don't know why it's such a problem, though," the orange and white tabby explained. They all noted a thick blush when the Russian blue began licking his mate's ears. "Barsik, stop that!" the smaller feline hissed. The Russian just ignored him and began rubbing his face in the tabby's neck fur. Maybe it was time to give in to the treatment.

"Just like Tino and Berwald. I've also seen several of the other European countries' cats act the same," a small blond furred cat with almond eyes commented whilst purring. That's when a small kitten with blue eyes came to where the older felines were talking.

"Mama, can't sleep. Peter rolls," it complained. Peter? As in the kid Basil's owner had helped with his game?

Now it was breakfast time. Basil walked over to his master, who was staring at a cup of coffee. He settled down by the American's feet. He yawned before noticing the plate of pancakes. His eyes went wide before getting up and begging Finland for some pancakes of his own. After a bit of chuckling, the Finn set down a small plate.  
Basil was about to eat before a grey blur shot toward him.

"Basil, why you no wake me?"

"You were too peaceful the way you were sleeping." Then they heard Barsik's owner, Nikita, tell Jessie they could have snuggled.

"Da. I wanted to snuggle with my Basil, too."

Again, Basil blushed as Finland's, Helsinki's, and Stockholm's cats came over to greet them. "Sleep well?" Aina asked in a pleasant tone. The American tabby just glared at his larger Russian mate. It was difficult to have a good night's sleep when a certain feline rolled over and tried suffocating you.

They were confused when the adults and girls left, their pets following to see what some emergency meeting was about. Basil and Barsik knew that Jessie's father sometimes went by 'America', so if he'd called the meeting and Basil Jessie weren't at home with their sisters, it must be bad. Basik just licked his face and said, "Don't worry, da?" Basil was like his owner right now, with his own father upset with him. Hero was in the same situation as America, stressed from the recent economic problems. Heck, even most of the States were stressed. Being personifications sucked sometimes. But at least Hero wasn't mad on the same level as America. Mostly disappointed that he hadn't told him. It was so much simpler to be a cat.

After breakfast, the others still hadn't left Sweden's office, so the four of them - the two 'humans' and their felines - went to the living room to watch tv. The cats ended up curled together on Jessie's lap, much to the teen's displeasure. "Nikita, you're cat's too feckin' fat. He might squish Basil."

'I would never do that to my Basil. And I'm not fat, da?' he turned and asked his mate. The smaller male only cuddled closer to his Russian blue.

'He's just upset. And he always needs something to complain about.'

"Basil will be fine. Barsik wouldn't hurt him."

Somehow, both Jessie and Basil ended up falling asleep again. Looking down, Nikita noticed a slight smile on his boyfriend's face, his pet also looking like he was smiling as Barsik gave him a bath. The two hadn't seen each other in a while, and the last time both teens had seen each other was a small Vegas incident with Minsk, Alaska, and the Shetland Islands. That hadn't gone well. Minsk was almost killed due to the fact that he was just as crazy as Belarus and had a girlfriend you'd hate to piss off. Now, how to get him to leave Moscow alone?

Carefully, Moscow carried all three to the room Finland and Sweden had given them during their stay. Not long after, Sealand came in and complained of yelling from his papa's office. Maybe it was time to confront America about his after all. He made Barsik stay with Jessie while he went to settle this. It wasn't too hard to find the Swede's office, just follow all the noise. (A/N: Okay. How'd it go from a Nekotalia to this?)

From what he could tell, it was mostly the capitols and a select few nations yelling at America.

/I raised you better than this, Alfred!/

/Amerique, you don't need to mess wiz zings you just don't understand. Oui, Angleterre?/

/Oh, stow it! You're only encouraging Paris, who doesn't really need to be dragged into this. And why are you part of this, London?/

/For the sake of yaoi fangirls all over the world?/ a British girl suggested to her father.

/Al, you really need to think before you say something,/ a quiet man told America in a rather calm tone of voice.

/America, how can you be so cruel to your own son? Why does it matter that he love's Russia's son?/ Hungary asked him.

"Da. We all know it isn't the fact that he's gay. Just that it's me."

/Никита?/

"Доброе утро," Nikita greeted his father.

/YOU. Where's Jessie? !/

/Dad, calm down before you say something you're gonna regret - Again./

"He's down the hall, sleeping. подсолнечник might not want to talk to you at the moment. Da?"

The various capitols all nodded, not happy with how America handled the situation.

/Moscow-kun, you and Jessie-kun stay there for as rong as you feer you have to. I wirr make sure Alfred calms down./

/Ah! Kiku, you're supposed ta be on my side!/

/I am not taking anyone's side, Alfred. Onry saying that it wourdn't hurt for you start accepting your son's feerings for Moscow-kun. I know you and Russia-san haven't gotten arong werr in the past, but you courd at reast make an honest effort,/ Japan scolded his boyfriend.

One by one, everyone said goodbye, the capitols wishing their fellow personification a good luck before the web cams were shut off. Oklahoma Territory would be interested in how this turned out. The last faces he saw were Indian Territory, Budapest, Brussels, London, Paris, and Tokyo - some of the most important people in Oklahoma Territory's life: his sisters and friends. Though, the American male of the group mainly got along with Budapest and Brussels, both really being Cherokee's friends. It was rather hard for Jessie to make his own friends, since he tended to come off - how to say this? - British.

Back in the guest room, Jessie had woken up from his nap and was gently petting the tabby on his chest, the Russian blue watching the smaller cat's tail sway back and forth, listening to his steady purring. It must be so simple to be a cat instead of having human form and being forced to deal with the world's problems. "Comunista hijo de puta. Where were you?"

It was still odd. Jessie looked like England, spoke Spanish at random moments, and tended to act just like his father. The first time they'd met was when France controlled Louisiana Territory, part of where Oklahoma was located. Jessie and Cherokee looked only three at the time, but he couldn't help but be drawn to the then-toddler. Maybe it was the boy's determination to become strong and counter any attack. Who could say?

"Te amo, Comunista hijo de puta."

'Aww~. How cute, da? Я люблю тебя, Василий,' Barsik meowed while climbing onto the American's chest to sit with his mate.

"Hey, take care of your cat. He might try to molest Basil the way he's acting," said American protested. The pair of felines didn't even know what he was talking about.

* * *

**Heh heh. Yeah . . . . Still think it's weird that President Obama began supporting gay marriage a few months after I started my Ameripan fic that I SOOOO want to finish, but WannaDieMiku hasn't sent it to me yet. Sad face.**

**Wow. America REALLY hates his former step-son.**


End file.
